Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks
Thursday, April 08, 2010 Basket Case
The night before Easter, M. Edium was very specific about exactly where he wanted the carrots placed. He had three to work with -- not the little baby carrots that I only wish Bugs Bunny was still around to mock, but the big, raw, unpeeled kind. He directed me to place one in the very center of the back yard, where he could see it out his bedroom window; one in the hallway outside his room; and one on top of the dresser, right next to his bed.
I don't question. I just obey.
After he fell asleep, I went in to check on him. Half the carrot on his dresser was gone. I thought for a moment I could point this out to him as proof of E.B.'s existence, until I realized he'd eaten it himself, Which is odd, because he normally doesn't like carrots in raw, unpeeled form.
Trash and I set our alarms early so we could wake up before him and [help] hide the eggs. I also picked up the carrot in the yard and put it in the trash, because even if the five-second rule did apply to the yard, we'd gone over it by several orders of magnitude.
We got done just in time, and barely had time to sit down with the paper before we heard him up in his room, wanting to come down. He got to go through his basket treats, and was more excited about his new Narnia books than the candy. Clearly he gets his sweet tooth from his mom. And his nerdiness.
Then his B-mom came over, which meant it was time for the egg hunt. Of the two dozen hollow plastic ones containing candy and money that
(Don't worry, the traffic cone was in our yard, not on the street in front of our house. Or the freeway.)
So between the excitement of the hunt, the gifts, the candy (particularly the Peeps -- none of us knows where he gets that from, a nice long B-mom visit, and a lovely bath to wash off all the blue Peeps sugar, he had a great morning. But then he seemed a little out of sorts the rest of the day, to the point where we ended up canceling our plans because we were worried that maybe his strep was coming back again. He had a meltdown while we were trying to help him with his new bow and arrow, borne of frustration at the fact he couldn't split an arrow in the target with his first shot. Leaving aside the fact that by necessity, you have to do that with your second shot at best, I don't think it's possible with suction-cup arrowheads anyway.
Since this was what we call a one-parent meltdown, I withdrew and Trash got him to share what had been bothering him all day.
It seems he had been pretty determined to see the Easter Bunny for himself during his visit. Hence the trail of carrots leading up to his bed. So when E.B. came and went without M. Edium ever clapping eyes on him, all the jelly beans in the world couldn't make up for it.
But I think he understood when we (and every neighbor he talked to on the walk around the block we took after this conversation) explained how the Easter Bunny had a lot of houses to get to, and besides was quite wily. If he fell for every carrot-trap laid for him, he'd never make it.
I think he felt better by bedtime. There's always next year. And one of our neighbors said something about knowing people in the costume industry.
Oh, and that missing half-carrot? It turned up on his floor the next day, visible in the morning light. He'd snapped it off and tossed it down just to make the trail that much easier for E.B. to follow right to him. That's probably what hurt most of all. posted by M. Giant 4:58 PM 3 comments
Too funny! We gave up trying to maintain the fiction of the Easter Bunny with our 5-year-old. Santa Claus is hard enough!
I have a friend who leaves "bunny prints" in flour on the floor for her kids. Proof, somewhat.
wait... you set the alarm and get up EARLY to hide eggs? You should really just hide them after he goes to sleep.... it's much more peaceful and you don't have to wait for the coffee to brew and potentially wake him up in the middle of "operation egg-drop".